“Hey!” Dakota waved enthusiastically as she and her friend stopped in front of the pastry case.
“Hey, sweetie.” At least Dakota didn’t seem aware of what went down between her aunt and her mother. Gabriella moved away from the sink, sending a look of appeal to Jabal. “You mind?” She nodded to the sink.
“Sure.” Jabal nodded. “I guess I like you enough. Go ahead and take their orders.”
Swapping spots, Gabriella squared up in front of her niece. “Sorry I didn’t get to talk to you the other night. Congratulations.”
“Oh.” She shrugged in dismissal. “No big deal.”
“Well. What can I get you?”
“Um.” Dakota looked over the assortment. “What do you think, Malia?”
The name hit her with a jolt. Malia? As in Cruz’s youngest sister? Gabriella turned to look at Dakota’s friend for the first time to be sure. It was the same girl from the other day at the high school. Her face was softer and feminine but the resemblance to Cruz was absolutely there. The same dark hair. The golden skin. The dark eyes were the same, too, fringed with lashes even more lush than Cruz’s.
“The lemon cake.” Malia pointed, her fingertip tapping the glass. “That looks good.” She lifted her dark eyes to Gabriella’s.
Gabriella could only stare. A few seconds ticked by before she realized the girl was waiting for her response. “It is,” she blurted, nodding. “It’s my favorite.”
“Great.” Malia smiled.
“I’ll have the chocolate croissant,” Dakota said. “And an iced white mocha.”
Gabriella snapped her attention back to her niece. Shaking her head, she smiled. “Your mother would have a fit if she heard you order that.”
Dakota grinned. “Good thing she’s not here.”
“I’ll have an iced white mocha, too,” Malia said as Gabriella opened the case and selected their desserts. She placed them on plates for the girls, trying not to gawk at Malia and pick out all the similarities she shared with her brother. The girls waited, chatting as Gabriella prepared their drink orders. She managed to get their drinks right even as she eavesdropped on their conversation. It was mostly about their upcoming dance and whether or not they would go with a group or dates.
“Here you go,” she said, passing over the iced white mochas.
“My treat,” Dakota announced as she dug out her wallet. “You can get me the next time.”
“Aw, thanks.” Malia bumped hips with Dakota in a friendly thank-you and Gabriella had to wonder how long these two girls had been friends. Tess had never mentioned the friendship, and it was the kind of thing her sister would have mentioned because she would not have approved. That went without saying. Her sister was overly concerned with appearances and connections. In Tess’s mind, Malia would always be a Walsh. Bottom line. Her sister would never forget that.
“Thanks, Aunt Gabby.” Dakota made an exaggerated show of sticking a few dollars into the tip jar.
Gabriella chuckled and shook her head. “You’re too much.” Dakota probably knew her mother wouldn’t leave Gabriella a tip. They’d been in here together countless times and Tess never left her a tip. Apparently sisterly love didn’t extend that far.
“Sure thing, girls. I made them extra tasty for you.” Which essentially meant she loaded them up with extra whipped cream. She winked at the girls and watched as they headed to a table near the window.
She must have been staring too long and doing nothing in the process. Jabal sidled up beside her and nudged her with an elbow. “Get moving. The boss is watching.”
She didn’t even glance where she knew Bianca was standing, but she felt her laser stare on her back. Sighing, she got busy again, making sure to look industrious.
The girls seemed content to park themselves for a while, talking and looking at their phones together, heads bent close as they laughed at whatever it was they were watching.
In fact, her attention was so focused on them that she didn’t notice a new customer had entered the café. Not until he was standing in front of the counter, waves of testosterone pulsing off him and extending to her, wrapping her in some kind of web.
“Holy hell, that’s a gooey cinnamon roll of a man,” Jabal murmured appreciatively.
Gabriella’s gaze swung and collided with Cruz’s. Apparently Jabal fit into the five percent of the Sweet Hill population that didn’t recognize Cruz Walsh.
Her coworker stepped up to the counter, angling her head in what Gabriella knew was the beginning of her flirt game. “Hi there. Welcome to The Daily Grind.” Yes, she did use a little breathy inflection in the word grind. “Can I get you something?”
Gabriella stood frozen, staring unblinkingly at him, her muscles locked up tight, an animal caught in the crosshairs.
His gaze fixed on her with sole-focused intensity over Jabal’s shoulder. “Hi, Gabriella.”
“Hey there,” she said, her voice croaking out. She swallowed and tried again. “Hi there.”
Jabal swung around and mouthed widely, “OMG. You know him?”
She ignored her coworker and kept her gaze glued to Cruz.
“How’s it going?” he returned.
Their manager decided at that moment to make her presence felt. She cut directly in front of both Jabal and Gabriella to stand in front of Cruz. “Can I help you?” she asked sharply.
Gabriella frowned at the back of her head, wondering if her sharpness might be indicative of something besides her annoyance with Jabal and Gabriella. Might it be because she recognized Cruz from the news?
Gabriella moved forward slightly, forgetting about the fact that she should be working so that she could better observe Bianca’s pinched expression.
Cruz tore his gaze from Gabriella to answer Bianca. “I’ll take a cup of coffee.”
“Just coffee?” she asked in faintly accusatory tones, as though he should order a scone, too.
“Yeah,” he replied evenly. “Plain coffee is fine.”
Bianca moved to pour the cup of coffee. Gabriella decided to step up in that moment and collect his money from him.
“That’s three seventy-eight.”
He handed her a five-dollar bill with a faint smile. It made her stomach flutter. He wasn’t much for smiling. “Expensive cup of plain coffee,” he remarked, his gaze crawling over her face, leaving a path of heat everywhere his gaze touched. How was that possible? How did one ignite fire with a mere glance?
“Yeah. It’s cheaper to make it at home.” She sent a quick glance over her shoulder, only half caring if Bianca overheard her. “Probably tastier, too.”
A corner of his mouth lifted in definite amusement and the flutters in her stomach turned into full-on somersaults.
“Gabby!” The manager snapped her name and stalked over with Cruz’s steaming cup of coffee. “I got this.”
Bianca looked back and forth between them suspiciously. As though they had done something wrong. Gabriella bristled at what felt like clear injustice in the works. Save her from small-minded people. She and Cruz were only talking and being friendly. She had done the same with countless customers. It wasn’t as though her manager could read her mind and know all the X-rated thoughts flashing through her head when she looked at Cruz. Stubbornly, she stayed put. She was an adult. She did her job well. Bianca had nothing to complain about on that score and she didn’t get to boss Gabriella around simply for the fun of it. Simply because she thought Cruz Walsh was an unsavory individual—for that was clearly what was tracking through her mind.
Holding her ground, she took Cruz’s change from the cash register and handed it back to him, her skin sparking where his fingertips brushed her palm. “Thank you. Enjoy your coffee.”
Nodding, he glanced at her manager and then headed over to where his sister sat with her niece. Malia’s face brightened upon seeing him. She patted the seat of the chair beside her for him.
“Gabby,” the manager snapped. “Quick. Get on the phone with the sheriff’s department.”
She looked back at her manager, shaking her head in confusion. Bianca’s face was splotchy red with hot emotion. She glared at Cruz where he sat across the café.
“What for?” Gabriella asked.
“Tell them Cruz Walsh is in our place of business and he’s harassing two of our young female customers.”
Oh my God. She gaped at her manager for one long moment, certain she had just fallen down the rabbit hole. Was this woman for real? She pointed to where Cruz sat with the girls, certain that she could clear up this nonsense. “Uh. That’s his sister and my niece.”
Bianca scowled, processing this for a moment before answering, “Your niece? So you’re okay with your niece fraternizing with a known murderer?”
Jabal stood closely behind Bianca, waving her finger in a little circle near her head to demonstrate just how crazy she thought their manager really was.
“Firstly,” Gabriella began, “he’s not guilty of any crime. Secondly, he’s not harassing anyone. He’s just having a cup of coffee.”
Her manager propped both hands on her hips. “You’re paid to do what I tell you to do.”
“That’s actually not my job description,” she countered. “Nowhere is your name even mentioned in my job description. I show up on time, keep the place clean, prepare drinks and food and serve customers with a smile.”
Bianca’s face burned even brighter. “Do what you’re told. Call the police.”
She held her ground and didn’t look away. “No. I will not.”
“If you value your job—”
“If my job requires me to follow your asinine instructions and persecute that man over there, then you can stuff your job.”
She must have spoken loudly. The entire place seemed to have fallen quiet.
Jabal’s mouth fell wide open behind Bianca. With a small shake of her head, she snapped out of her shocked stupor and grabbed the arm of the other barista on duty, making sure he didn’t miss any of the show. The pair of them gawked behind the manager’s back, Jabal nodding her head in support.
“You can get your things and go,” Bianca announced. “You’re fired.”
Eighteen
She was fired.
It clicked in her mind that she had never been fired. Deep inside she was still the good girl who turned her homework in and got straight As. She didn’t get fired. Not even from part-time jobs at a coffeehouse. She was Gabriella Rossi, grade A overachiever.
Nodding her head jerkily as though she accepted the verdict just rendered against her, Gabriella’s shaking hands went to the ties of her apron, stupid emotion clogging her throat as she unraveled the bow behind her back.
She was never good at confrontation. Flabby Gabby never did confrontation. She simply kept her head low and survived.
“Sounds good to me,” Gabriella got out. “If I had to work for you another minute I might have had to become a raging alcoholic just to cope.”
Jabal let loose a loud snort of laughter.
Without another look, she stalked to the back where all the employees kept their things. She grabbed her stuff from her locker and then headed back out to the front of the café—and instantly felt all eyes on her. Both employees and patrons watched her. Her niece and Cruz’s sister . . . and Cruz. Of course. He watched her with his dark, unreadable eyes, his mouth set into a hard line.
She readjusted her grip on her purse strap and marched across the seating area.
Dakota rose to her feet and started in her direction. “Aunt Gabby . . .”
She forced a bright smile. “Do you need a ride?” She tossed a glare over at Bianca. “I’m sure you don’t want to stay in this shithole. There’s a better coffee place five minutes from here. They don’t burn their beans there.”
Bianca’s face reddened. Good. She heard her.
“Oh. I was going to hang out a little longer with Malia. Some other kids from school might pop in, too. You don’t mind, do you?” She sent a wary glance in Bianca’s direction.
“No worries.” She gave Dakota a kiss on the cheek. Her issues didn’t belong to Dakota, after all. The girl should be able to stay with her friends. “I’ll see you at Sunday dinner.”
“Sure. Bye, Aunt Gabby.”
Acutely conscious of Cruz’s eyes on her, she wended her way between tables and out of the shop. She didn’t want to explain anything to him.
She didn’t want to suffer condolences for her sudden loss of employment.
Adrenaline still pumped through her from her clash with her manager. She just needed to get back home where she could punch a wall or something. Maybe scream into a pillow over the injustice of it all. Part of her still wanted to march back in there and inflict her wrath on Bianca.
Instead, she walked outside and blinked into the sunshine. When she came into work this morning it had still been dark. She glanced at the time on her phone. Nana would be working with the in-home care therapist for another hour, and then her parents were supposed to be coming over to grill fajitas and play Monopoly with her tonight. Nana was in good hands. Gabriella had the rest of the day to do whatever she wanted.
She was almost to her car when she heard her name. “Gabriella?”
She stopped and turned. Holding a hand up to shield her eyes, she watched as Cruz walked across the parking lot, his long strides swift, eating up concrete as though he were a man on a mission and that mission was Gabriella.
Her mouth went dry. She shifted on her feet uneasily. So much for a clean escape.
He stopped in front of her. “You just got fired.” It was more statement than question, but his eyes still searched her face, seeking verification.
“Um.” Her head fell back slightly to look up at him. “Kinda. Yeah.” She shrugged uncomfortably. “I guess so.”
“Because of me?” Again, more a statement of fact than question.
“Um.” Her mind turned that over. She didn’t want him to feel like she had made some grand sacrifice for him. Her awkwardness only increasing, she shifted her weight on both feet. “No. Not really. I—”
The rest of her words were cut off. Apparently, he’d heard enough.
His hand shot out and curled around the back of her neck. The sensation of his warm fingers at her nape sent a shock wave through her. Instantly, she came awake, her body alive, all her nerves singing hallelujah.
He hauled her in against him, his hardness pressing into hers, melding into her generous curves. She whimpered. She could feel every inch of him—his firm chest, his washboard belly and Thor-like thighs. Sensations flooded her. He was so much bigger . . . taller and muscled. He always made her feel small, like a petite, treasured thing. His fingers flexed on the back of her neck, the blunt tips singeing her skin, burning deep past skin into muscle and bone.
When his mouth finally slanted over hers hotly, his tongue licking his way inside her mouth, it was like sinking into chocolate. Rich and decadent and just sin sin sin.
His fingers tightened, burrowing into her hair, caressing her scalp as he kissed her. His teeth gently tugged on her bottom lip and desire coiled tightly in her belly. He released her bottom lip and gave it a long, savoring lick. She sighed, and he took advantage, slipping his tongue inside her mouth.
After a long moment, he lifted his head and growled in that gravel and grit voice of his, “No one has ever taken a hit for me.”
Apparently he didn’t believe her denial.
His eyes glowed darkly, crawling over her face, lingering on her tingling lips. Her mouth probably looked puffy and bruised from his kiss. He looked at her like she was the most incredible thing he had ever seen . . . which wasn’t a totally comfortable sensation. Not for a girl who couldn’t even take a compliment with any measure of grace. “I’ve pretty much gotten used to trouble. It’s followed me my whole life. You didn’t need to stick your neck out for me. I guess I owe you one now, Rossi.”
She shook her head. “It was no big deal. Just a crap job that paid nine dollars an hour,” she attempted to
say, but his head swept back down and he kissed her again, shutting her up.
They must have moved . . . or the force of his kiss propelled her backward because suddenly she felt a vehicle bumping into the back of her.
She fell back limply, indifferent to the cold metal at her back. She lost all ability to care about her surroundings. She only cared about him. About his hard, delicious body fused to hers. About his lips, both hard and soft, rough and gentle—his tongue inside her mouth, stroking her tongue, exploring and tasting and making her want to crawl inside him and stay there forever.
Her fingers dug desperately into his shoulders. He slid one hand down her back, between her body and the car to cup her ass, gripping it in his broad hand. And then her feet were off the ground.
She wasn’t sure what happened first. Whether she jumped up against him or he simply lifted her. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Incredibly he supported her weight. Incredibly she didn’t feel any self-consciousness over it.
Their mouths fused together. Everything was desperate and hungry and oh-my-God-oh-my-God-oh-my-God. A car honked and she gasped, pulling away. Blinking, she looked around, dazed, suddenly remembering where she was—and how this shouldn’t be happening here of all places. Her niece was feet away . . . as was his sister, and her crazed manager with a finger hovering over the keypad, ready to dial 911.
With a growl, he dragged her mouth back to his and they started all over again.
Screw it. She let herself have this kiss . . . have him. She had never felt more on fire in her life. It was hard and fast and she felt like she was drowning.
“Gabriella!”
She jerked at the sound of her name. Somehow it didn’t register on Cruz.
“Gabriella!”
She pushed at his shoulders, ending their kiss. Still pinned to the car, she looked wildly around him, spotting her sister charging across the parking lot, her stylish white coat, à la Meghan Markle, whipping around her svelte body.
“Oh God . . .” She closed her eyes in one long blink of misery. She hadn’t seen her sister since the night of the slap and now she had to see her . . . like this?
Beautiful Sinner Page 17